Connect with us

Features

Sex, Laws and Legal Tape

Published

on

Gender Equality

“No more than two-thirds of either gender”: the legal dimension

Background

The women’s conference in Beijing in 1995 emphasised that what was needed in law making bodies was enough women to have an impact (not just two or three or six), to show that women could really make an effective contribution to public affairs. It popularised the idea that one-third women (33%) should be enough.

Kenyan women picked up the Beijing ball, and ran with it. In 1997 there was an effort to get the law changed to require parties to have at least one-third women candidates. No law was passed, but the failure spurred the establishment of the Women’s Political Caucus who “rejected the role of merely saying prayers, making tea and dancing for politicians during meetings”, as two authors put it.

In the past, there have not been many women in Kenya’s Parliament. Before 2010, there were 222 MPs: 210 for constituencies and 12 “nominated”. The latter were chosen by parties after the election results were in, and were supposed to be the voice of groups with inadequate representation, including women. For example, in 2007 sixteen women were elected for constituencies, and six nominated – just 10%. One woman elected in a by-election in 2008 brought the total up to 11%.

Now we have 349 MPs and 67 senators. Not more than two-thirds men would mean 117 women in the National Assembly and 23 in the Senate.

At the end of the 1990s, FIDA Kenya (International Federation of Women Lawyers) argued that under a new Constitution 30% of the seats in Parliament should be reserved for women. In fact, they said, law should reserve one-third of the seats in all public bodies for women. (Of course, 30% is not one third. In our current National Assembly of 349 members, the difference between the two is eleven).

Making a constitution

In 2001 the first official body to work on a new constitution started work: the Constitution of Kenya Review Commission (usually called the CKRC). The Act of Parliament setting it up said its task included gender equity. Seven CKRC members were women— 26% of the regular members, not the 50% that FIDA had demanded, or even one third. But they included formidable women such as Phoebe Asiyo who had entered Parliament in 1979 (one of only three women), Nancy Baraza, former chair of FIDA, Professor Wanjiku Kabira, founding secretary of the Women’s Political Caucus, and Salome Muigai, gender and disability activist.

“One-third women” became “not more than two-thirds of either gender” at the Bomas conference. Of course it is logical, but the language reflects the male fight-back against women’s demands.

Between 2002 and 2010, there were about eight versions of a new Constitution. All talked about the need to have one third women or “not more than two thirds of either gender”. The CKRC proposed an electoral system that would have guaranteed that at least 45 members out of a house of 300 (15%) were women. National Constitutional Conference at Bomas in 2003-4 replaced this with something quite like the current system: this could have produced 25% women in the National Assembly (the percentage was not clear because, while it named each district/county and gave each a woman member, it left it to Parliament to fix the number of ordinary constituencies).

The idea of “topping-up” with extra women to ensure one third women in county assemblies was in draft constitutions ever since Bomas. But the second draft by the Committee of Experts (CoE) included the same system for the National Assembly and the Senate as well as the county assemblies. The Parliamentary Select Committee that reviewed the draft in early 2010 removed this except for county assemblies. This is important because this is the system that Parliament was most recently discussing.

Incidentally, “one third women” became “not more than two thirds of either gender” at Bomas (let’s call this principle “not>⅔” for short). Of course it is logical, but the language reflects the male fight-back against women’s demands. However, women have sometimes found it useful in argument: not more than two-thirds, they say, means precisely that. There should be no “rounding” of numbers.

The 2010 Constitution

The Constitution seems to make making a clear commitment to not>⅔, particularly in elected bodies, with some provisions about “appointive bodies” (like the cabinet, commissions, the public service, judiciary and various boards and authorities). But it is not always really clear what has to be done, and how and when.

Only in county assemblies is not>⅔ totally guaranteed. After the ward election results are announced, and four seats assigned to parties to represent marginalised groups, including persons with disabilities and the youth, the question is: will more than two-thirds of the seats be occupied by men? If “Yes”, the Constitution provides that enough women must be selected to ensure not>⅔ are men. These extra women are taken from lists of candidates put forward by each party before the election. And the number of these extra members that each party gets depends on how many ward seats the parties have won.

On the Senate, the Constitution has rules making it much easier to achieve not>⅔, but not guaranteeing it. Senate must have 16 extra women and two women to represent persons with disability and marginalised groups. So there is a guarantee that just under 27% of the Senate will be women. If only five women are elected as county Senators, not>⅔ would be achieved. But in 2013 no woman was elected county Senator!

The Constitution takes us less far towards not>⅔ in the National Assembly. It does guarantee 47 seats for women—county women representatives. Though there are 12 seats for marginalised groups (often called “nominated”), there is no guarantee of how many will be women, though probably not less than four. Progress towards not>⅔ could be slow. To get there under the existing rules, 65 women would have to be elected for regular constituencies. In 2013 only 16 of those constituencies (just under 6%) elected women: a smaller percentage than in the 2007 elections. Providing specific seats for county women representatives tended to discourage parties from putting forward women for regular seats: they argued that “women have their special seats”.

“Promote” is not the same as “guarantee” or “ensure”.  Incentives, education and persuasion may be forms of promotion, but they do not guarantee representation.

The Constitution also clearly says “Not more than two-thirds of the members of any county executive committee shall be of the same gender” (Article 197). The Governor has a free hand in appointing executive members, so it should be easy to ensure that there are enough women. The same should be true of the President appointing the Cabinet.

Another possible approach is not to require certain behaviour, but provide an incentive – like money. Two early draft constitutions said that Parliament must pass law about how much political parties would get from the Political Parties Fund, and that one factor should be how many women candidates each party had got elected. But the Parliamentary Select Committee removed this, wanting Parliament to have a free hand in deciding how the Fund was used.

Article 81 does not say how the result is to be achieved: the electoral system must comply with several principles— including not>⅔ in elective public bodies. But what is a principle? Does it mean “This must happen and must happen now”, or “Later will do” or just “Make an effort”?

Article 27(8) is also important, and equally puzzling: the State must do what is necessary “to implement the principle that not more than two-thirds of the members of elective or appointive bodies shall be of the same gender”.

Finally, Article 100 says that law “promoting” representation of women and disadvantaged groups must be passed within five years. “Promote” is not the same as “guarantee” or “ensure”. Incentives, education and persuasion may be forms of promotion. In fact, the most sensible meaning of Article 100 is that it is about something different from special rules, like at least one-third women. It is about ensuring that, over time, parties and people are encouraged and educated to accept women and disadvantaged groups as legislators.

After the Constitution

In 2013, the IEBC (Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission) and the parties had no choice: there had to be 47 women county members of the National Assembly, and 12 extra members of the same body – taken from lists that had to alternate men and women (often called zebra lists); there had to be 18 extra women members of the Senate and top-up members of the county assemblies. Every county’s assembly has been “topped up” this way. So every county has one third women (no less —but also no more). Senate got just the guaranteed 27% women. The National Assembly had 19% women: 16 elected for constituencies, the 47 county women and 5 of the 12 extra members.

And most commissions and other public bodies have one-third women. The same is not always true of government executives: nationally or in the counties. Early on, a FIDA report found that only 16 of the county executives had as many as one third women.

Despite fine words about the Constitution and women’s rights, the Court of Appeal did almost nothing to move the Supreme Court towards not>⅔.

In short, appointers to bodies have usually done what they had to and no more—and sometimes not even that.

Most interest (in the media and in the courts) has been in not>⅔ in Parliament. So we shall look at that saga in detail. But first, the court cases about appointive bodies.

The Courts on “appointive bodies”

There have been two particularly important cases.

One, in 2011, was brought by FIDA about the composition of the Supreme Court, with two women and seven men (over 70% men). Despite fine words about the Constitution and women’s rights, the Court of Appeal did almost nothing to move the Supreme Court towards not>⅔. The Court of Appeal read 27(8) as though it demanded “progressive realisation” or gradual movement towards not>⅔, and did not create any immediate duty. But “progressive” is not there. To be fair to the Court of Appeal, teasing out the meaning of 27(8) is not easy.

And it said that the Judicial Service Commission—which selects the judges—did nothing wrong. It suggested that the JSC could do nothing until the government passed law or took some other measures to ensure not>⅔. But this ignores that Article 27(8) puts the duty on “the State” not just the government, and the JSC is part of the State. Indeed, because the JSC is an independent commission, there is very little the government or Parliament can do to tell it how to work.

In 2017, the issue came up again—brought by the National Gender and Equality Commission. Justice Chacha Mwita was happy to decide that two thirds of seven is five, leaving little room for requiring efforts to make the Supreme Court truly gender equal. He did not explain what the Constitution means when it says the JSC must promote gender equality.

In the second case, in 2017, the make-up of the cabinet was challenged. Justice Onguto held that Article 27(8) did apply to the cabinet, and had been violated because cabinet had more than two thirds men. However, because of the imminent election he said the cabinet did not have to be changed immediately, but a wrongly made-up cabinet after the election would be invalid. He did not accept the idea that this was a matter for progressive realisation.

Trying to get not>⅔ in Parliament

The IEBC

The IEBC and its predecessor the Interim Independent Election Commission did try to ensure not>⅔ in Parliament. An expert proposed a novel system: every candidate in a regular constituency would have to run on a “ticket” of a woman and a man. Voters would vote for the ticket not the individual. If a “ticket” won, usually the first name on the ticket—man or woman—would become the MP. But, after all results were in, if not enough women had seats, the women rather than the men from winning tickets would have been taken, until enough women were taken. The taking-the-women process would have begun with the tickets that had won, but the least resoundingly (by the smallest proportion of the votes cast). It wasn’t a perfect system—independent candidates particularly presented a problem. But it would have meant no-one had to give up the chance to stand because of their gender, and women would have had a chance to stand in every constituency, learn about campaigning etc. And it would not have needed a change in the Constitution.

But the IIEC preferred another system: grouping constituencies into fours, and designating one of each four as a “women only” constituency for one election. This could have been done without amending the Constitution. But the idea did not get past Cabinet. Men could not bear the idea of not being able to stand for “their” constituencies.

So in 2013 there was no mechanism to ensure not>⅔.

Enter the courts

The question of not>⅔ in Parliament went to court just before the 2013 elections; the case was brought by CREAW (Centre for Rights Education and Awareness). A majority of the Supreme Court decided that “principles” were not firm rules. And affirmative action, like special measures to get women into Parliament, was something to be achieved gradually. So Parliament with under 33% women would not be immediately unconstitutional. A bit like the FIDA case on the Supreme Court.

Because the JSC is an independent commission, there is very little the government or Parliament can do to tell it how to work.

Chief Justice Willy Mutunga disagreed. He would have insisted on the necessary law being passed then.

The Supreme Court majority seized on Article 100: about law “promoting” representation of women and disadvantaged groups. By 2015, the Court said, the law guaranteeing the gender quota must be in place. This is ingenious, if not perhaps what the drafters intended. But what the Supreme Court says is the law.

The Attorney-General

The Attorney General set up a Task Force. It considered various solutions including the two systems just mentioned, and others, most of which would have needed a change to the Constitution—except financial incentives to parties to strive for women to win their seats.

The MPs

Bills were introduced into Parliament to amend the Constitution to ensure not>⅔. The MPs just did not turn up in sufficient numbers to pass the Bills.

Parliament did amend the Political Parties Act to include a provision that says that 15% of the Political Parties Fund must be distributed to parties based on how many “special interest group” members were elected for the parties at the preceding general election. Women are among the “special interest groups”. This may not help much. Last time, only three parties got anything from the Fund. Even with recently changed rules for allocating the Fund, no more than four parties will get money from it after the 2017 elections if the pattern of seats won is like last time. Finally, though the Fund is not small, is it enough to persuade parties to change deep-seated prejudices?

The courts again

In 2015, Justice Mumbi Ngugi held, in another case brought by CREAW, that Parliament must pass the necessary law by the Supreme Court’s deadline. So Parliament extended the deadline. Soon after the National Assembly missed this new extended deadline, CREAW went back to court. Justice Mativo decided this case on March 29th 2017. He ruled that Parliament had failed to do what the Supreme Court had directed. He told them they had to do it by May 29th, otherwise anyone could apply to the Chief Justice asking for an order that Parliament should be dissolved (which means an election). This is because the Constitution says that if Parliament does not comply with a court order to make a law implementing the Constitution, anyone may apply to the Chief Justice. And the Chief Justice must ask the President to dissolve Parliament, and the President must do so.

Bills were introduced into Parliament to amend the Constitution to ensure not>⅔. The MPs just did not turn up in sufficient numbers to pass the Bills.

But changing the voting system is not the only way to get more women. One other court case suggested that one way is for parties to put forward enough women candidates, and for the IEBC should pressurise parties to do so. The court agreed. But the judge said that because time was short, he would not order this for 2017. But for next time the IEBC must take this approach. In fact, the IEBC has said that it has tried to do it this time, but it cannot force the parties.

This approach does have shortcomings: a party might nominate women as candidates for half its constituencies, but if these were constituencies the party was least likely to win, it might end up with well under one-third women members actually elected. However, last time, 15% of women ward MCA candidates got elected—the same as men. But a large number of (mostly male) independent candidates might also produce more male members.

Conclusion

We waited for Parliament. Could it push through a constitutional amendment in time? Might it try the women-only constituency system rule, or the two-name ticket approach—so avoiding constitutional amendment? But was there time before the election to do the necessary new nominations? Or would it fail to meet the court’s deadline?

Now we know: Parliament discussed amending the Constitution to introduce top-up seats for women. This has been their favourite approach because existing MPs wanted to hang on to their chances. It would have been the least complex system to administer so close to the elections. If it had been passed, and if the results were the same in terms of numbers of seats held by women as in 2013, to achieve not>⅔ the National Assembly would have had to have 73 top-up women—and a total of 422 members.

Anyway, Parliament failed. How hard did it try? On June 6th the National Assembly debated the Bill, but after that the members perhaps realised the effort was pointless—despite being on the House’s agenda repeatedly, nothing was done before they closed finally on June 15th. And it had not gone to Senate!

No-one seems to have gone to the Chief Justice. Probably everyone realised this would not have helped. There is already to be an election —less than two months after Justice Mativo’s deadline. And the IEBC is struggling to be ready by then.

But changing the voting system is not the only way to get more women. One other court case suggested that one way is for parties to put forward enough women candidates, and for the IEBC should pressurise parties to do so.

We have some time to rethink strategies, including whether we want an even more “bloated” National Assembly. And, let’s think about the position of women representatives. In the National Assembly only 16 were elected on the same basis as most men: competing in a constituency. The forty-seven county members have roles less well understood by the public, and with larger constituencies to manage; and five are list members with roles also less well understood. In the Senate: all have unclear roles, not representing counties, unlike most of the men. In the counties, most of the women are list members, without ward responsibilities or support, so again having a role that is not clear to everyone. Is this satisfactory? Do we want even more of these sorts of seats for women? However, many of these women have been active members. One indication may be how well women who have served as “nominated members” in the current Parliament or county assemblies are able to use that experience as a springboard to election for regular constituencies, wards, counties or even governorships.

A report says that this time, 11 women are standing for Governor (there were only six last time), and 42 for Senator (17 last time), but the picture is sketchy so far. However, a final thought: suppose—by a miracle—in August five women are elected Senator and 65 women are elected as constituency MPs, so neither house has more than two-thirds men. Would that not be a better solution? Would it be the end of the story?

The sting in the tail

Now for the bad (or worse) news: some have said that the new Parliament would also risk being dissolved if it fails to pass this law. But, the Constitution (it’s Article 261(8)) says that the period Parliament gets to pass a law begins again when the new Parliament begins its term. For Article100—the peg on which the Supreme Court hung its ruling in the CREAW case— the implementation period allowed is five years. No Parliament will last more than five years. So the CREAW case technique will never work again.

But the constitutional principles still apply. Article 100 is not an essential aspect of the achievement of the “not more than two thirds” rule. In his minority decision in the original CREAW case, Chief Justice Mutunga was clear that “any of the elected houses that violate this principle will be unconstitutional and the election of that house shall be null and void.” Will the courts agree?

Comments

Jill Cottrell Ghai has been a Professor of Law at numerous universities, including Ife and Ahmadu Bello Universities in Nigeria, Warwick University and the University of Hong Kong. She also has extensive experience in advising on constitutions, including in Kenya, Nepal and Iraq.

Continue Reading

Features

THE WALKING POOR: Nairobi Privileges the Motor Vehicle, Not the People

Fifty-five years after independence, Nairobi’s urban planning still privileges the high-heeled motorists over the walking poor. This, as PATRICK GATHARA explains, is rooted in colonial policy.

Published

on

To make our roads safer, we need to make them feel less safe

The return of the “Michuki Rules” (the stringent rules established by John Michuki, the former Transport Minister in Mwai Kibaki’s government) that targeted public transport operators has precipitated days of traffic chaos as matatus, the backbone of what passes for the city’s public transport system, declared a strike in protest. Newspaper headlines bemoaned the agony visited on drivers and commuters, with some decrying the traffic gridlock that ensued as private cars flooded the roads. The Daily Nation describing it as a “day of walking”.

It is a telling description and speaks to the low regard with which pedestrians in Nairobi are held. This despite the fact that even when matatus are on the roads, most Nairobians leg it to wherever they are going. According to the World Bank, more than 8 out of every 10 commutes involve walking as the primary or secondary mode of travel. Half of those trips are made completely on foot. The 2010 draft Sessional Paper on Integrated National Transport Policy states that nearly two-thirds of the city’s residents meet their daily travel needs by walking or cycling.

Despite this, the focus on motorised transport is understandable given the truly terrible state of transport infrastructure and traffic congestion. The Traffic Index 2018, a composite index published by the Serbia-based website numbeo.com (which claims to be “the world’s largest database of user contributed data about cities and countries”) rates Nairobi as having the 12th worst traffic in the world, with one-way journeys averaging just under an hour. The World Bank says that Nairobi has “one of the world’s longest average journey-to-work times” with commuting speeds of just 14 kilometers per hour.

Since 2013, city authorities have embarked on an ambitious road expansion scheme to tackle the congestion, but it seems that the roads are filling up faster than they can build them. Dorothy McCormick, a researcher at the University of Nairobi, told the Guardian in 2016 that Nairobi’s vehicle population had grown 16-fold in under 30 years and the former Nairobi County Governor, Evans Kidero, once observed that at the current rate of registration, Nairobi’s vehicle population was likely to surpass 1.35 million by 2030.

In such circumstances, it is perhaps not surprising that the needs of pedestrians are mostly kicked to the kerb. In fact, as New York-based CityLab notes, “The ongoing battle for the roads of Nairobi is an extension of the city’s broader class segregation: Cars, a transit option for the city’s upper classes, command the road with superiority. Pedestrians, many of whom belong to Nairobi’s lower class of informal laborers, are funneled into dangerous and uncomfortable walking environments”.

Since 2013, city authorities have embarked on an ambitious road expansion scheme to tackle the congestion, but it seems that the roads are filling up faster than they can build them. Dorothy McCormick, a researcher at the University of Nairobi, told the Guardian in 2016 that Nairobi’s vehicle population had grown 16-fold in under 30 years and the former Nairobi County Governor, Evans Kidero, once observed that at the current rate of registration, Nairobi’s vehicle population was likely to surpass 1.35 million by 2030.

Nairobi’s love affair with the automobile and the classist segregation of public spaces it represents has a long history. The article “Politics, policy and paratransit by Jacqueline Klopp of Columbia University and Winnie Mitullah of the University of Nairobi states that “European settlers and officials ‘planned’ the city of Nairobi around personalised transport which facilitated physical segregation in terms of mobility”. By 1928, just over two decades after it became the official capital of Kenya, the city had 5,000 cars “making it the city with the highest per capita private automobile ownership in the world”. Thus traffic was a major concern even then. But it was still a city more concerned with the problems of a wealthy motoring few rather than those of the majority of its citizens. Europeans and Asians drove. Poor Africans have always walked.

Just as there was little planning in place to cater for the residential needs of the African majority (which resulted in the mushrooming of slums across the city) so there was little thought given to how they would move around. “The colonial, segregationist urban economy failed to cater for people who were not formally employed by the colonial government,” Klopp and Mitullah note.

When the Nairobi Town Bus, the precursor to Kenya Bus Services, was inaugurated in the 1930s, it was largely for the benefit of Europeans and Asians, as Isaiah Gibson Aduwo noted in 1990. In the 1940s and 1950s, the Kenya Bus Services “served the Eastern parts of the city [where Africans lived] using vehicles built on lorry chassis” according to the paper “The Metamorphosis of Kenya Bus Services Limited in the Provision of Urban Transport in Nairobi” by Tom Opiyo of the Department of Civil Engineering.

In fact, the growth of the matatu industry, which is the source of so much grief nowadays, is a direct result of Africans entrepreneuring their way around the public transport problems that the city government had failed to resolve given that the bus service remained out of reach for all but a minority of city residents. Still, nearly a century after it received its charter as a city, the only major change in the character of Nairobi has been the replacement of the colour bar with one based on class.

The class “battle for the roads” is over a tiny sliver of Nairobi’s land into which motorists, commuters and pedestrians have been pushed by decades of uncontrolled land-grabbing. A study by the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat) revealed that in the central part of Nairobi, the space allocated to streets and pavements is only about 12 per cent of the total land area, less than half of the estimated 30 percent required to support a functioning traffic system in a modern capital. The walking poor have to struggle daily for this constricted space on the street with the very perpetrators whose theft of public land has created this situation.

The privileging of the automobile has had a detrimental effect on the community life of the city. “Increased traffic has adverse impacts on public activities which once crowded the streets, such as markets, agoras, parades and processions, games, and community interactions. These have gradually disappeared to be replaced by automobiles,” notes the authors of the book The Geography of Transport Systems. “In many cases, these activities have shifted to shopping malls while in other cases, they have been abandoned altogether.” 

The class “battle for the roads” is over a tiny sliver of Nairobi’s land into which motorists, commuters and pedestrians have been pushed by decades of uncontrolled land-grabbing. A study by the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat) revealed that in the central part of Nairobi, the space allocated to streets and pavements is only about 12 per cent of the total land area, less than half of the estimated 30 percent required to support a functioning traffic system in a modern capital.

Few stop to ask about who ends up sacrificing the most at the altar of the vehicle and whether it is fair. After all, the vast majority of the walking poor do not hang out at the new swanky malls popping up across the city. Regardless, it is they who end up paying the highest price, both in lives and treasure, for Nairobi’s dysfunctional system, even when they benefit least from it. According to the National Transport Safety Authority, 60 per cent of fatal accidents on the city’s roads involve pedestrians. They also suffer a much higher rate of injury than other road users. Even the introduction of bodaboda (motorcycle taxis), which have brought motorised transport closer to the poor, has been quickly followed by a spike in accidents and deaths involving them.

Further, the street network is ultimately funded by public taxes, and it is the poor who contribute most of that. The rich and the middle classes may have a higher share of income tax but the poor, by sheer force of numbers, more than make up for it in the taxes they pay for accessing goods and services – the government’s largest single source of tax revenue. They basically subsidise car-owning residents’ travel on roads from which they themselves are actively excluded. And this has real implications for their ability to escape poverty as, according to the World Bank, for the average household, only 2 out of every 10 formal jobs are accessible within an hour of either walking or using public transport. In a car, however, that number rises to 9 out of every 10 jobs.

Today, the walking poor are mostly still treated as an after-thought when designing, building and repairing streets. The expansion of roads may be popular but it also generates huge inconveniences and dangers. Pedestrians are forced to either take long detours to find the nearest safe bridge to cross or to risk their lives trying to dash across six or eight lanes of road. The recently expanded Outer Ring Road in the poorer eastern part of the city features almost no facilities, such as bridges or pavements, for pedestrians to safely cross or even walk. However, it is interesting to note that when roads were expanded in the wealthier parts of the city, such as in Kileleshwa, most of whose residents drive to work, sidewalks and bicycle lanes were included.

But that is an exception. Even when it comes to patching up streets, pedestrians are still left with the short end of the stick. It is common to find smooth roads lined with cratered pavements, which are peppered with open manholes or have been turned into parking spaces.

The recently expanded Outer Ring Road in the poorer eastern part of the city features almost no facilities, such as bridges or pavements, for pedestrians to safely cross or even walk. However, it is interesting to note that when roads were expanded in the wealthier parts of the city, such as in Kileleshwa, most of whose residents drive to work, sidewalks and bicycle lanes were included.

As we increase the city acreage devoted to cars, there is little corresponding increase in land devoted to people. Within the city’s Central Business District, only two streets (Mama Ngina Drive and Aga Khan Walk) are devoted to pedestrian and non-motorised traffic. Hawkers are actively barred from accessing the CBD while matatus and buses can occupy streets (and pavements) for hours on end. In many city estates as well, home owners have grabbed sections of kerbs bordering their properties and converted them into parking spaces or flower gardens.

The county government has been making noises about introducing car-free days to encourage people to leave their vehicles at home but that will not happen as long as the city continues to be organised as it is. “[T]he default in Nairobi for the proper road user is the car,” notes Amiel Bize, a Columbia PhD candidate who has been studying pedestrian safety in Kenya since 2010.

Undoubtedly, the capital needs a sane motorised public transport system. It also needs to take care of its congestion problem. However, none of these objectives can be achieved if it does not take care of its walkability problem. The goal of re-engineering and reinventing Nairobi as a city for people, rather than a city for vehicles, will remain elusive as long as it does not cater to the needs of the majority of its population. It is this that led to Nairobi being ranked a lowly 186 out of 231 global cities in the New York-based consultancy Mercer’s 2018 quality of living survey.

Much of this will involve undoing a century of misconceptions about the desirability of walking. These misconceptions are captured in the Business Daily headline that read: “Traffic congestion slows down Nairobi to a walking city.” Yet the idea of “a walking city” is not a lamentable consequence of a failure of motorised transport but rather should be the desired outcome of effective policies to decongest roads. In fact, as The Geography of Transport Systems notes, “people tend to walk and cycle less when traffic is heavy”. The book emphasises that “traffic flows influence the life and interactions of residents and their usage of street space. More traffic impedes social interactions and street activities.” With the introduction of modern light rail, the Ethiopian capital, Addis Ababa, demonstrates how a combination of policies to improve public transport and a consistent commitment to investing in pedestrian infrastructure can help regenerate cities.

Rather than implementing separate policies, such as the Michuki Rules, to tame matatus and beating Kidero drums to tackle congestion, Nairobi should adopt an integrated plan whose aim should be to make the city a more humane and walkable place to live – a city where the streets are transformed from theatres of conflict and exclusion to arenas of interaction that welcome all people regardless of class.

Continue Reading

Features

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING: Factors influencing Internet freedom in Africa

CLAUDIO BUTTICÈ examines the factors that influence internet freedom in Africa.

Published

on

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING: Factors influencing Internet freedom in Africa

With the possible exception of Kenya and South Africa, Internet freedom is constantly under attack in most African countries. Ethiopia has suffered a dramatic decline in Internet freedom over the past few years, the Ugandan government has imposed a tax on social media, and the Tanzanian government has taken down many websites – a pattern that closely mimics what happens in China and Korea. In a continent where Internet penetration stands at just 31.2 per cent, less than one-third of the population has access to the World Wide Web. Such restrictions on connectivity, as well as a lack of security, online manipulation and disinformation tactics, play a significant role in keeping many countries undeveloped.

Why online manipulation tactics are a threat to freedom

When the Internet started becoming a mainstream technology, many praised it as a liberating force that was helping millions of people to know the truth about the world they lived in. It didn’t take much for governments of the less democratic countries to understand the threat it posed to their power. Today, however, even many so-called “democracies” have learned how dangerous Internet freedom can be to their entrenched interests and privileges, and have taken action to disrupt it.

Between 2016 and 2018, Internet freedom was widely abused by many governments to distort the truth in their favour. Massive online manipulation tactics have been employed in countries such as China, Russia, Syria and Ethiopia. Even Western nations historically known for the independence of their media, such as the United States and Italy, have seen disinformation used to manipulate elections results. Information about many global events, such as the migratory flows from South America and Africa to the United States and Europe, have been distorted to fuel scare-mongering tactics. Governments in all the corners of the world use political and security reasons as excuses to restrict mobile Internet services, especially in areas populated by religious or ethnic minorities. Online dissent has been suppressed by altering, filtering or removing information on social media, and human rights defenders have often been threatened, attacked, or even killed to silence the few independent voices left. For instance, in March 2018, Rwandan blogger Joseph Nkusi was sentenced to 10 years in prison for incitement to civil disobedience and spreading rumours just because he offered a different perspective on the official narrative of the 1994 genocide.

Bots and fake news have been created and deployed to shape the opinion of countless numbers of people. Surreptitious grassroots support for government policies have been fabricated to justify even the most blatant violation of human rights. Many anti-democratic changes have been condoned by building social media bubbles where citizens falsely stand with regimes that are essentially endorsing themselves. And when online news media suffer the same level of restrictions and propaganda that plague the remaining traditional media, any hope for objectivity is lost forever.

PARASITES OR PRODUCTIVE WORKERS? The truth about African migrants in Europe

Read Also: PARASITES OR PRODUCTIVE WORKERS? The truth about African migrants in Europe

In a nutshell, when people have no access to the truth, or, at least, a different side of the truth, their freedom is stolen, and democracy dies. State-led interventions to restrict Internet freedom ensure that our eyes are open to one thing, and one thing only. Governments that resort to these tactics are scared by the idea of people knowing what is really happening because they have something to hide.

The Chinese influence

It is no mystery why China is the country that is currently spearheading this new wave of policies that aim to chain down Internet freedom. Officials from Beijing are hosting several seminars, conferences and training courses to teach other governments how to monitor and handle negative public opinion. They have devised new tools to “manage the public opinion in the cyberspace” and establish a new form of “socialist journalism with Chinese characteristics”. Similar seminars have been held in the Philippines, Vietnam, India, Lebanon and Saudi Arabia, as well as in many African countries, including Libya, Egypt, Morocco, Tanzania, and Uganda. Unsurprisingly enough, these conferences are often followed by the implementation in those countries of some of the most restrictive and controversial cybercrime and social media laws.

It is no mystery why China is the country that is currently spearheading this new wave of policies that aim to chain down Internet freedom. Officials from Beijing are hosting several seminars, conferences and training courses to teach other governments how to monitor and handle negative public opinion. They have devised new tools to “manage the public opinion in the cyberspace” and establish a new form of “socialist journalism with Chinese characteristics”.

The Chinese are also the same people who provided all those governments with high-tech surveillance tools to monitor people with no respect for their privacy or human rights. With the excuse of “maintaining public order,” autocrats and dictators started employing Artificial Intelligence-powered facial recognition software developed by Chinese companies such as Hikvision and CloudWalk. The latter signed a strategic partnership with the government of Zimbabwe to develop AI that can recognise African faces. Needless to say, the millions of Zimbabwean citizens who saw their personal data sold by the Zimbabwean government to a foreign agency had no say in the deal.

Much of the most important telecommunications infrastructure in these countries is built by China, which apparently doesn’t shun any opportunity to collect additional intelligence. In January 2018, much to their dismay, security staff at the African Union found that the computer system in the headquarters that the Chinese government had gifted the organisation was likely a Trojan horse for cyberespionage. Though China officially denied the reports, it appears that the system had been secretly sending data back to Shanghai servers every day for five years. It is not hard to see that there’s an agenda behind the Asian giant’s digital generosity towards smaller and poorer nations.

Social and blogging media taxes

The Ugandan “social media tax” is a glaring indication that something is wrong. After 32 years of entrenched power held with brutal strength, President Yoweri Museveni found in the Chinese seminars a flawless idea to rule out political opposition without any violence. The Ugandan government imposed an apparently harmless social media tax of 5 cents per day to put an end to “gossip”. Citizens who fail to pay the tax will be cut off from social media by their Internet service provider (ISP). In a country where 80 per cent of the population earns less than a dollar a day, five cents a day is no small deal. And since the tax is applied to all social media platforms and online messenger services, including Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tinder, SnapChat, Tumblr, WhatsApp, Telegram, Viber, Line, and Skype, it quickly adds up. It has been estimated that it could drive up the Internet connection prices to an unacceptable 40 per cent of the average Ugandan’s monthly income.

To further enforce this policy, Uganda’s Communications Commission Executive Director, Godfrey Mutabazi, suggested telecom companies subject virtual private networks (VPNs) to the tax. In the meantime, ISPs have been ordered to block and switch off VPNs one by one. Banning VPNs is a move that China already tested as a successful tactic to stop those who found a rather simple method to circumvent Internet censorship. It would be a terribly effective way for Museveni to maintain his authoritarian regime without facing the international condemnation that comes with the use of tear gas and live rounds fired at demonstrators. And it could have similar effects as in Cameroon, which restricted Internet access for at least 150 days in 2017.

In 2017, neighbouring Tanzania praised the Chinese government’s efforts to replace social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter with “homegrown sites that are safe, constructive, and popular”. Shortly afterwards, in July 2018, several popular websites had to be shut down to avoid hefty fines imposed by a new troubling law that restricts criticism of the government. In an effort to “curb moral decadence” the government passed a provision that forces bloggers, online streaming platforms, YouTube TV channels, online radio stations, online forums, social media users and Internet cafes to pay a $930 fee to publish online. Bloggers are required to also provide a lengthy list of details and information, while Internet cafés must install surveillance cameras. Violating these new rules or posting anti-government statements on social media may lead to imprisonment for a minimum of 12 months or a fine of at least $2,200, or both. Once again, free expression in Africa was muzzled and curtailed through Internet censorship.

Surveillance and interception of communication

Another way to impose an indirect control on Internet usage is the violation of privacy rights for alleged “security purposes”. Many countries, such as Kenya, Uganda, DR Congo and Tanzania, enacted laws that allow the installation of surveillance tools that enable interception of communications with the excuse of “detecting, deterring and disrupting terrorism”. But who is protecting people from being spied on? Who controls whether these tools are used for surveillance or censorship instead?

In Malawi, the Consolidated ICT Regulatory Management System (CIRMS) – what Malawians call the “Spy Machine” – will allegedly monitor mobile phone service providers to ensure fair pricing and quality of service. Note that “allegedly” here is the key word. Its implementation was initially challenged in the High Court by civil rights movements but the Supreme Court eventually allowed it. Bottom line: the Spy Machine now allows Malawian government officers to listen to subscribers’ private conversations with no restriction. To ensure “quality of service”, of course.

Another way to impose an indirect control on Internet usage is the violation of privacy rights for alleged “security purposes”. Many countries, such as Kenya, Uganda, DR Congo and Tanzania, enacted laws that allow the installation of surveillance tools that enable interception of communications with the excuse of “detecting, deterring and disrupting terrorism”. But who is protecting people from being spied on? Who controls whether these tools are used for surveillance or censorship instead?

In Kenya, in January 2017, the Communications Authority (CA) wanted to install a link at the data centre or mobile switching room of mobile operators to identify counterfeit or stolen phones. The purpose of this was supposedly to prevent terrorism in accordance with the provisions of the country’s Prevention of Terrorism Act. However, it was later alleged that this system could also intercept phone calls and its implementation was, therefore, blocked by the courts. It was also later alleged that middle boxes may be present on the Safaricom network and that law enforcement officers are allowed to extract private information before seeking a warrant. Other reports purportedly found that the CA procured the Israeli HIWIRE technology to capture, monitor, and analyse private activities on social media. Although all of these allegations are still just allegations and nothing else, it’s not hard to understand what the narrative is in this case.

The economic impact of Internet disruptions

Internet shutdowns have become common in sub-Saharan Africa, especially during elections or when public anti-government protests occur. Internet disruptions in the region have occurred in a total combined period of 236 days since 2015. But even if security agencies work with national communications regulators to order the disruptions for purported “national security reasons”, many African governments do not even realise how high the cost of these shutdowns is.

In Africa, the information communications technology (ICT) sector is thriving. Over the past two years, smartphone connections have doubled to almost 200 million, especially in countries such as South Africa, DR Congo, Cameroon, and Kenya. Broadband subscriptions, smartphone purchases, and the mobile money sector are expected to grow exponentially, providing unique opportunities for productivity gains to enterprises and governments. The ICT sector is a potent catalyst of economic growth since it provides the opportunity to overcome Africa’s logistical limitations, such as poor road networks and cumbersome bureaucracy. ICTs also allow for a reduction in organisational costs; they speed up the circulation of money, and contribute directly to the economy of many African countries in the form of fees and taxes paid by local and foreign ICT companies. The value added by the ICT ecosystem has been estimated at $10.5 billion in 2016, with an indirect productivity impact worth up to $62 billion.

It is hard to precisely estimate the economic cost of Internet disruptions because every shutdown of communication services affects countless services. Secondary economic damages are suffered by sectors affected by shutdowns, such as call centres, tourism and hospitality services and e-commerce. The Collaboration on International ICT Policy in East and Southern Africa estimates that African governments have suffered a deficit of at least $235 million due to lost tax revenues caused by blocked digital access and reduced worker productivity – a significant sum as the African Union’s combined GDP amounts to only $1.5 trillion. Shutdowns represent an insurmountable barrier to business expansion; they damage local competitiveness and erode investor confidence, causing unnecessary reputational risks. In Kenya, the direct and indirect costs of a full Internet shutdown would be among the highest in sub-Saharan Africa, at over $6.3 million per day.

Positive news

Africa’s Internet freedom is constantly under attack, but democratic forces are fighting back, and in some instances, were able to score some critical victories.

In May 2018, the Computer Misuse and Cyber Crime Act passed in Kenya provided authorities with the discretion of prosecuting individuals who were found guilty of “subverting national security” while interacting online. While the law purported to protect Internet users from things like cyber harassment, it was clearly created with the sole purpose of muzzling dissenting political views and freedom of expression. But on May 29, the Bloggers Association of Kenya (BAKE) sued the Attorney-General, the Speaker of the National Assembly, the Inspector-General of Police and the Director of Public Prosecution, claiming the Act was unconstitutional. The High Court ruled in favour of the bloggers, suspending 22 provision of the law for further review.

Shutdowns represent an insurmountable barrier to business expansion; they damage local competitiveness and erode investor confidence, causing unnecessary reputational risks. In Kenya, the direct and indirect costs of a full Internet shutdown would be among the highest in sub-Saharan Africa, at over $6.3 million per day.

Ethiopia, a nation which spearheaded censorship in Africa, is also slowly freeing itself from the draconian restrictions imposed by the 2009 Anti-Terrorism Proclamation. Although strong repressive measures are still present, the newly appointed Prime Minister, Abiy Ahmed, has already started moving towards a more progressive agenda. A gender-balanced cabinet has been appointed, thousands of prisoners, including some prominent bloggers, have been released, dissidents have been allowed to return home, and hundreds of TV channels and websites have been unblocked. Ethiopians are now enjoying an unexpected new age of free expression, which other so-called democracies in the rest of Africa should emulate.

Continue Reading

Features

KENYA’S NEW PRISON INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX: Fundamental flaws in Uhuru Kenyatta’s plan to make jails profitable

CHRISTINE MUNGAI explores Kenya’s new prison industrial complex and unearths the fundamental flaws in Jubilee’s plan to make jails profitable.

Published

on

KENYA’S NEW PRISON INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX: Fundamental flaws in Uhuru Kenyatta’s plan to make jails profitable

“When I first became involved in anti-prison activism dur­ing the late 1960s, I was astounded to learn that there were then close to two hundred thousand people in prison. Had anyone told me that in three decades, ten times as many peo­ple would be locked away in cages, I would have been absolutely incredulous.” ~ Angela Davis

In the one hundred years between the mid-1850s and 1980s – a period of nearly 130 years – the state of California constructed a total of nine prisons and two prison camps. But in the five years between 1984 and 1989, nine more prisons were constructed. It had taken more than a century to build the first nine prisons in California, and less than a decade for that number to double. Today, there are 34 state prisons in California, and this is not counting federal prisons or county jails – the equivalent of Kenya’s police cells. The state of California also has 43 prison “conservation” camps, whose inmates are procured to fight wildfires and respond to other public emergencies.

That the US is running a Prison Industrial Complex has been well documented. America accounts for just 5% of the world’s population, but 25% of the world’s prisoners. Ava DuVernay’s gripping 2016 documentary, 13th, expertly tracks the policies, systems and forces that have pressed more than 2.3 million Americans – overwhelmingly black and Latino – into the prison system, so much so that in some neighbourhoods, going to prison is almost a normal rite of passage.

But what the figures above from California reveal is that the processes that produce mass incarceration of an entire demographic can be astonishingly rapid and diabolically efficient.

***

“The first thing that happened when we got there is we were told to strip. In the open. All wardens sitting there watching. I think this was the worst thing to happen to us. We were many. The indignity of standing naked in front of strangers…” ~ Anonymous submission to #PrisonDiaries (courtesy of @MarigaThoithi)

 In early October, a press statement from the Presidential Strategic Communications Unit (PSCU) revealed a plan to establish the Kenya Prison Enterprise Corporation, a “state enterprise” that would reportedly expand the scope of prison work programmes “with the aim of unlocking the revenue potential of the prisons industry, and ultimately turn it into a reformative and financially self-sustaining entity.”

The new corporation will also contribute to the realisation of President [Uhuru] Kenyatta’s Big 4 Agenda, particularly food security, affordable housing, and manufacturing,” a statement from State House said. The corporation will be mandated to “organise and manage” the assets of the Prisons Department, including 86 prison farms with a total of over 18,200 acres of land. The corporation will, at some point, “foster ease of entry into partnership with the private sector on different spheres” – a vague statement that could include private contracting of anything from construction of prison facilities to full operations.

As Michael Onsando at BrainstormKE has argued, the plan to “unlock the revenue potential” of the prison industry is linked to the current financial distress in the Jubilee administration, as well as to a desire to make some gains in President Uhuru Kenyatta’s “legacy” term.

However, it is horrifying to think that the way to kill two birds – job creation and industrialisation – is by the deadly stone of expanding the prison sector, corralling people into a pool of cheap labour with almost no rights. Granted, there are many different privatisation models. Private firms can be contracted to build prisons, to manage them, or both. Countries such as the US, UK and Australia have privatised the entire chain of operations from construction to day-to-day operations, while in Europe the trend is to outsource specific functions, such as catering, administration, healthcare and security. In many Asian prisons, the private sector is more directly involved in the prison industry by contracting inmates to work in for-profit factories or firms. Kenya seems to be leaning towards a mixed model, where the corporation, for now, remains fully state-owned but is run with a private sector ethos.

As Michael Onsando at BrainstormKE has argued, the plan to “unlock the revenue potential” of the prison industry is linked to the current financial distress in the Jubilee administration, as well as to a desire to make some gains in President Uhuru Kenyatta’s “legacy” term.

Kenya’s prisons house nearly 50,000 people in facilities designed to hold 14,000. Stories of horrific conditions of disease, vermin and lack of food are common.

Most of the support for the privatisation of prisons is in the form of two arguments: one, that the private sector can run prisons better than governments can; and two, and that prisons ought to support themselves financially.

The evidence is mixed on the first claim; privatisation does not always save money or improve efficiency. A 2011 investigative report by the American Civil Liberties Union revealed that private prisons “do not save money, cannot be demonstrated to save money in meaningful amounts, or may even cost more than government prisons.”

A value-for-money study commissioned by the Dutch government found that while operational costs in private prisons were reduced by 2-13%, savings disappeared once transaction and other financial costs were taken into account.

Some countries have rejected proposals to privatise prisons. In Costa Rica, although the government had signed a pre-contract to build a private prison with a capacity for 1,200 inmates at $73 million, it did not proceed with the deal, instead opting to build facilities at its own expense for 2,600 inmates at $10million. The Costa Rican government realised that going along with the deal would mean being locked into a contract that would spend $37 daily per inmate for 20 years, while in the state prisons the amount was $11. (Inmates in state facilities made up 80% of the prison population.) The government cancelled the contract, and opted instead to improve the situation of all inmates, raising the daily per capita amount to $16 for all those under confinement.

In South Africa, the government took over a private prison in Bloemfontein because G4S – the private security company contracted to run the prison – “had lost effective control of the facility”. Investigations were launched into allegations that some prisoners had been forcibly injected with anti-psychotic medication and subjected to electric shocks.

The second claim – that private prisons should be able to support themselves financially – is deeply rooted in a neoliberal ethos that judges the value of everything through the logic of the market. We see this in the announcement of the plan by PSCU, which stated that unlocking the revenue potential of the prisons industry would ultimately turn it into “a reformative and financially self-sustaining entity”.

In South Africa, the government took over a private prison in Bloemfontein because G4S – the private security company contracted to run the prison – “had lost effective control of the facility”. Investigations were launched into allegations that some prisoners had been forcibly injected with anti-psychotic medication and subjected to electric shocks.

The framing of this proposal is curious, particularly in the way it connects reformation with financial independence. It is neoliberalism offering rehabilitation through success in the market. (No wonder that the phrase “prominent Nairobi businessman/ woman” is often used to sanitise the reputation of people mired in scandal.)

Moreover, in a place like Kenya, where government contracts are often irregularly awarded and where corruption is endemic, privatisation can actually result in degraded services. Already, detectives are investigating a Sh6.2 billion scandal at the Prisons Department. A senior detective revealed a few weeks ago that investigators from the Directorate of Criminal Investigations and the anti-graft commission were closing in on suspects behind the suspicious spending on prisoners’ food, which was cleared last year although it is still marked as a pending bill.

Now, by linking the prisons sector with President Kenyatta’s Big 4 Agenda, we are likely to see the emergence of a “hard-working performer” at the helm of the prison corporation who will point to the profits at the end of the prison pipeline as evidence of “cleaning up” the ailing penal system.

***

“The perpetrator is a product of criminal discourse and a victim of institutions that claim to deter crime, but are actually invested in perpetrating a police state where everyone is under surveillance and on the border of falling into criminality.” ~ Michel Foucault

All this is happening in a worrying context of a criminal justice system that disproportionately targets the young, the poor and the urban. Last year, a damning audit by the National Council on the Administration of Justice revealed that the Kenyan state is essentially at war with informality. In practical terms, poverty is a crime.

Not only that, colonial laws against offences like vagrancy and loitering remain on our statute books and are vigorously enforced – as Carey Baraka articulated on the perils of being a young man on the streets of Nairobi and being forced to prove your existence by producing an ID card on demand. In fact, demands for ID documents assume that the black body in the city is not legitimate and must be accounted for.

“It’s an assumption that Africans can never be urban,” says city planner Constant Cap. “If you are urban, then you are not a real African, and you must explain your presence in the city to the powers that be. Our cities are actually not planned with us in mind – it is like they are not expecting permanent residents, just itinerant workers who trade their labour.”

This means that nearly 70% of court cases in our criminal judicial system are criminally petty, nuisance offences, or economically-driven (such as being drunk and disorderly, trading without a licence, loitering, causing a disturbance, or “preparing to commit a felony”). The dragnet is so large and indiscriminate that a Kenyan adult has a 1 in 10 chance of spending some time in police custody over the course of a year, although these figures skew heavily towards those who are young, male and poor.

In some ways, it is a logic that leans towards universal punishment rather than supporting universal prosperity – even for the small street trader who is really not doing anyone any harm, and certainly does not deserve jail time. As the economy continues to be depressed, we are likely to see more people who are unable to secure formal employment and who turn to informal trading on the street. This will make them more vulnerable to police harassment and arbitrary arrest.

A recent investigation by Nation Newsplex revealed that there are more pre-trial detainees incarcerated in Kenya than convicted prisoners; 90% of those in remand have been granted bail but cannot afford it even though more than half of the bails were set at less than Sh250,000 (roughly $2,500). In other words, there are immediate better outcomes for being rich and guilty than poor and innocent.

Meanwhile, the Judiciary is reeling from huge budget cuts this year. It had requested Sh31 billion to fund its operations for the current financial year but it was allocated Sh17 billion by the National Treasury. The latter figure was further reduced by Parliament to Sh14 billion. This means that judicial officers will likely be under more pressure to arrest and fine, as a prosecutor in the Directorate of Public Prosecutions (DPP) told me. “Petty offences are prosecuted vigorously in the judicial system because they are quick and easy to prove – the only witness needed in most cases is a police officer,” she said. “And the fines are now an even important source of money for the Judiciary.”

A recent investigation by Nation Newsplex revealed that there are more pre-trial detainees incarcerated in Kenya than convicted prisoners; 90% of those in remand have been granted bail but cannot afford it even though more than half of the bails were set at less than Sh250,000 (roughly $2,500). In other words, there are immediate better outcomes for being rich and guilty than poor and innocent.

It doesn’t help that the key performance indicators (KPIs) for judicial officers are convictions. The gravity of the case doesn’t matter because “a conviction is a conviction, and magistrates get promoted on the basis of the number, not the type, of convictions,” the prosecutor told me, “even if the charges are just trespassing, hawking, illegal grazing, and the like.”

How might the profit incentive in the prisons change the trends in convictions and sentencing? “I definitely see a possibility for it to be more profitable to send people to jail than to fine them,” the prosecutor said. “Remandees are often given work to do things like sweep the governor’s compound – a profit motive in prisons will escalate this, and it will be framed as a favour to prisoners.”

***

But this is not all. The Kenyan education system is undergoing two major changes. On the one hand, the new curriculum has an increased focus on technical and vocational skills, and less of an emphasis on academic subjects. On the other hand, there is increased surveillance and militarisation of the school system, with authorities, including the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI) and the Education Cabinet Secretary Amina Mohamed, issuing threats of a criminal record and jail time for students who protest or who are implicated in anti-social behaviour.

“This is to warn every student from primary school, secondary school, college and university that the DCI is archiving and profiling every criminal act and consolidating charges that may be preferred to each and every student involved in any crime,” the DCI tweeted in June.

A school-to-prison pipeline is therefore not far-fetched. With the new curriculum putting students on individual “talent” pathways, it will be easy to explain student failures on their lack of talent, thereby obscuring the bigger structural issues that might be at play. And now, students cannot complain, or they risk jail time.

“[The] negative characterization of poor and largely nonwhite youth is in sync with the broader push to replace social services with criminalization,” Alex Vitale writes in “The Criminalization of Youth”, an article in Jacobin magazine. “As more and more deprived neighborhoods are denied access to decent jobs and schools, their young people are criminalized as ‘the worst of the worst’ to ensure that the problems in these communities are understood as individual and group moral failures, rather than the result of rapacious market forces and a hollowed-out state.”

***

“Companies that service the criminal sys­tem need sufficient quantities of raw materials to guarantee long-term growth . . . In the criminal jus­tice field, the raw material is prisoners and indus­try will do what is necessary to guarantee a steady supply. For the supply of prisoners to grow, criminal justice policies must ensure a sufficient number of incarcerated [people] regardless of whether crime is rising or the incarceration is necessary.” Steven Donziger

Three new menacing forces – the profit motive of privatised prisons, a depressed economy with fewer formal jobs and more informal trade, and a more militarised school system with jail sentences for unruly students – are likely to work with diabolical synergy to push an increasing number of young people into the criminal justice system.

This should worry us all because mere contact with the system leaves “a stain of criminality”, my prosecutor friend told me. “I’ve seen children and young people enter the criminal justice system for a small reason that could have been handled at home or in the community – and by the time the system is done with them, they are into proper crime: hardened, disillusioned and angry.”

Three new menacing forces – the profit motive of privatised prisons, a depressed economy with fewer formal jobs and more informal trade, and a more militarised school system with jail sentences for unruly students – are likely to work with diabolical synergy to push an increasing number of young people into the criminal justice system.

This is not a feature of a broken state apparatus; on the contrary, the state is acting just as it was designed to act, as Keguro Macharia reminds us:

One reads Kenyans demanding colonial systems work better, and weeps. 

– “we need police to do their work properly”

– “we need the laws implemented properly”

– “we need the judicial systems to work properly”

If you are being unhumaned, those systems are working properly.

If you are being executed, those systems are working properly.

If you are feeling frustrated and humiliated, those systems are working properly.

The demand cannot be that systems designed to unhuman Africans work properly.

The demand is abolition.

And as for Uhuru Kenyatta achieving the Big 4 agenda through prison “reform”, it would be worth looking at how the US government systematically and cynically deprived its black and brown citizens of liberty at a huge cost even to itself. Instead of building good public housing like the Housing Acts of 1949/65/68 mandated, the US rapidly built prisons. So in an evil kind of way, the US did end up investing in public housing – in jail.

Continue Reading

Trending